She’d just . . . gotten under his skin so badly he hadn’t realized the full extent of his desperation for her until she’d been naked and trembling in his arms from the effects of the climax he’d given her. Until she’d said his name.
Grabbing a towel, he dried his face and straightened. A part of him wanted to do what he normally did after he’d enjoyed a quick and dirty screw, which was to kiss the woman concerned, get his keys, and get the fuck out.
But he couldn’t. Because this was Mia. A vulnerable, homeless woman, and he’d . . . hurt her. He’d lost it and hurt her and . . . Christ . . . he had to make it up to her somehow.
Cursing under his breath, Xavier found a washcloth and ran it under the hot tap for a few moments. Then he took it back into the living area, only to find Mia with the shirt wrapped tightly around her, reaching for her panties and sweatpants. Her curls were a wild halo of black around her head and her face was still pink. She gave him that same wary look she always did as he approached, and although that cracked feeling inside him was telling him to get out while he still could, that wary look was even worse.
He went over to her, pulled the sweatpants out of her hand, then gathered her up into his arms.
“Hey,” she said, glaring at him. “What are you doing?”
“Looking after you,” he answered shortly, turning and carrying her down the hallway, heading toward his bedroom.
When he got there, he sat put her down on the edge of the bed, pulled the shirt off her so she was naked entirely, then gently moved the washcloth between her thighs. She made a protesting sound, trying to push his hand away, but he ignored it, kneeling on the floor in front of her and easing her thighs apart, moving the hot cloth against her sensitive flesh.
She shivered then sighed, relaxing. “That feels . . . nice.”
“I hurt you. I shouldn’t have.” His throat ached. “I’m sorry.”
Her shoulder lifted as if it wasn’t any big deal. “It’s fine. It’s supposed to hurt, right? At least that’s what I heard.”
“Yeah, which means I should have gone slower. I should have been gentle.” He stroked the cloth over her skin. There were marks on her hips. Red marks. And more on her neck.
You put those there. It’s your fault. It’s always your fault.
The thought stuck there in his head, a splinter he hadn’t ever managed to get out.
“It’s okay.” Mia was frowning at him. “I mean, if I hadn’t wanted you to do that, you’d have known about it.”
But it wasn’t okay, and deep inside, he knew that.
Chapter 9
Xavier said nothing, setting the washcloth to the side and rising to his feet. The look on his face was guarded. Was it something she’d said? Or was it the whole him-hurting-her thing?
It had hurt when he’d pushed inside her and yes, she’d been afraid. Having six foot and more of lean, muscular male lying on top of her had been scary, especially when she’d never experienced it before. She’d never had a guy between her legs, never had his cock pushing against her. But then, she’d never had a guy put his arms around her, hold her close, press his mouth to her throat as if he couldn’t get enough of her. Never had a guy whisper about how badly he wanted her, how he couldn’t wait. How he was sorry, but he just had to move.
People never apologized to her. Never ever.
She’d felt so small beneath him initially, so fragile and breakable. Yet, weirdly, when his hands had slid beneath her, gathering her close, and she’d felt the shudder that had gone through him, she knew that in a way, he was just as fragile, just as breakable as she was.
His hands had been shaking, and the look in his eyes when they met hers had been desperate.
The pain had been more than she’d thought, and he’d been a little rough. But then he’d started moving and some magic had happened, the pain ebbing and something else taking its place. Something that had filled her in a way that his hand on her couldn’t.
He’d been everywhere around her. His hands under her, his body on top, his cock pushing deep inside, the spicy hot scent of him surrounding her. And strangely, the fragile, breakable feeling had vanished, replaced by the sensation of being utterly safe, utterly protected. That sense that nothing could get to her while he was surrounding her, nothing could hurt her or harm her in any way.
Then he’d started to move and the pain went away completely, the ache between her legs deepening into need, into desire. For him. She’d pulled him to her, forgetting everything but the need to have him as close to her as she could, wanting even more. And even though he’d been inside her, if she could have climbed inside him in return, she would have.